Tactics of Comfort
by Arctic Husky
Summary: FE9. Ike will, on occasion, feel uneasy. For Soren, however, the unease in his mind is relentless. The only way that it can even slightly be calmed is through interaction with his only friend. Ike x Soren, one shot.


This is certainly a fanfiction of firsts for me: it is my first story written for the Fire Emblem fandom, and it is also the first time that I have written a male/male pairing. I would hope that people are mature enough just to ignore it if they don't like it. Ike/Soren just happens to be the only FE9 pairing spoke to me enough to encourage writing. (And if you stop reading this story after the second visit, you can just consider it to be of a friendly nature!)

With that being said, enjoy.

Disclaimer: Clearly I do not own Fire Emblem. If I did, I would probably have played Path of Radiance waaay earlier.

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_Tactics of Comfort_

The moonlight could barely pry its way through the canopy of trees that hung over the campground that night. As one of the humble band of mercenaries slipped out of his tent, the only sounds that concealed his footsteps were those of a crackling fire and a subconscious, content growl emitting from the throat of the figure sitting by the fire's side. The person slipping through the camp paused momentarily to observe his company in the outdoors: an overwhelmingly large being, a laguz. He had encountered their kind before, long ago, and the thought of it sent his heart into a pounding fit of frustration. Instead of pointing his noise up haughtily, he lowered his gaze and slipped silently through the tents that had been set up. There were no more than ten, and all but two of them had gone dark hours ago as their occupants turned in for the night. The first lit tent belonged to the figure wandering through the grounds unnoticed, and the second was his destination.

He hardly hesitated before calmly brushing the tent's door aside and letting himself in. A subtle expression of surprise reached his face as he noticed that his commander was not sitting in his tent alone, but his younger sister was curled up a couple of feet away, a blanket obviously having been placed over her after she fell into a slumber—unpleasantly, it seemed, by the dry stains of tears around her eyes. Returning his gaze the tent's male inhabitant, the visitor found that he was still physically awake, although his mind was absolutely numb. After many awkward seconds of deliberating as to whether or not to disturb him, the commander's attention suddenly returned to his surroundings. "...Soren?" he uttered uncertainly.

"Honestly, as much as has happened as of late, there is no excuse to be so oblivious to what is going on around you," the mage lectured instead of granting a more friendly greeting, "Do you realize how easily you could be killed, Ike? There is a huge target on you right now. Any moment of unawareness has the potential to be fatal."

Ike lifted his head to make eye contact with Soren. He took his time before saying anything, as though calculating the intent of Soren's harsh words: as blunt as they were, the grief hidden behind his cold stare seemed so apparent. "Thank you."

With a small shake of his head, Soren stepped further into the tent. The group was traveling quickly at that time to find a boat and sail to Begnion, therefore the tents were all very barren. Under less urgent circumstances, there would at least be makeshift tables set up in the tents of the commander and tactician; however, they would simply have to make due with the ground for that night. Soren lowered himself onto his knees and set a folder down in front of himself and Ike. "My apologies for only getting our last battle report to you now. I must admit that I took more time than usual," he said with a hint of shame, "I assumed that you would be awake late enough to see them before morning."

"You were right," Ike muttered as he absentmindedly opened the folder and leafed through the papers.

Soren watched him closely as he eventually stopped pretending to absorb the information contained in the folder, instead opting to look toward the tent's exit intently enough that it seemed as though he could see beyond it. It was important for a commander to know the status of his troops and their finances, but even Soren had to admit that there were times when it could not possibly be expected for a leader to focus all of his attention on numbers. That was what Soren's role was, wasn't it? To be the one for the quantitative knowledge to fall back on when Ike was not capable of handling it all on his own. The tactician reached in front of Ike and pried the folder from his hands without the swordsman even noticing, and then set it aside on the ground. "How long has Mist been sharing a tent with you?" Soren asked to prompt conversation while straying away from formalities.

After letting his eyes settle upon his younger sister's sleeping form, Ike replied, "Officially, she hasn't been. But every night since Father's death, she has joined me in my sleeping quarters after failing to fall asleep in her own." As he watched her for a few more seconds, concern overtook his face; her eyes were watering up once again. "She still cries herself to sleep, though," Ike continued, "She does it silently, trying to hide it from me, but it's so clear. The tears even continue to fall as she sleeps."

"And you?"

Ike's head snapped in the direction of Soren, who felt his heart pulse against his chest. Just once, as he realized that his question had delved into more emotions than he had ever addressed in his life. "I've been fine," Ike answered to override the silence, "Certainly too occupied to cry."

"Or to sleep."

Yet again, Soren had responded without running the sentence through his thoughts before speaking. Ike's brows furrowed as he processed Soren's accusation. "As though you're one to talk," he retorted, "Obviously I am not the only one lacking sleep on these nights."

When Ike grew irritated with him, Soren felt far more upset than when his brutally honest remarks sent anyone else off. To avoid further aggravating his commander, Soren lifted himself to his feet and spoke, "I have presented my report to you, so by your leave..."

Ike leapt up to his feet and approached the mage, "Wait, Soren. Wait." Just as he had been directed to do, Soren waited without a word. "I had no intention of coming down hard on you," Ike apologized, "These times have been hard on us all, and..." he paused, struggling to find a way to express himself, "I guess I've never experienced anything like this at all. I don't know how to deal with it." Instinctively, Soren wanted to be able to provide Ike with an answer. He was his tactician; he should have been able to provide him with advice to guide him through his trouble times... but he could not think of a thing to say. "I don't expect you to know, either," Ike suddenly piped up as though reading Soren's mind, "Although maybe you could do one thing for me?"

Soren waited silently for Ike to continue speaking and elaborate on what it was that he wanted him to do. The leader, however, was apparently struggling to pick the appropriate words for his request. "What is it?" Soren finally prompted with impatience.

"This feels ridiculous," Ike commented mostly to himself before addressing Soren again, "but since no one seems to have any ideas, I can only really go by what Mist has used to cheer her up, even briefly." The tent was enveloped in silence once more as Ike hesitated to speak any more. At last, he asked, "Could I have a hug?"

As opposed to a hardly noticeable widening of eyes or raising of eyebrows, Soren visibly took a staggered step back in surprise. "I, uh..." the mage stammered.

"Never mind," Ike said quickly, "It doesn't matter; I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Soren quickly objected, "I—I'll do it. It's not as though it's a big deal or anything..." With that, Ike stepped closer to his companion and slipped his arms around his torso. Soren froze as he decided what he was to do. He may have stated that it was not a big deal, but in truth he had never hugged anyone in his life. Feeling that he had dithered for too long, Soren chose to wrap his arms around Ike's shoulders, which led him to believe that it was bizarre for him to be comforting Ike with a hug when the swordsman was taller than he. Thankfully for Soren, Ike broke the contact before the mage had to face the awkward thought of whether or not it was time to pull away. "Uhm..." Soren muttered after Ike failed to say anything for some time.

With a faint smile on his face, Ike looked to Soren, "You may take your leave as you wanted, Soren. ...Thank you."

The tactician nodded in understanding and exited the tent without another word. He had gone to see Ike to provide a mandatory report, but had come out having had far deeper a connection than he had ever had with anyone before. It was an honour to have been able to comfort who he considered his only friend; however, as Soren spotted the laguz still sitting watch at the camp's edge, he realized that he had gotten something out of the exchange, as well. He felt calmed.

Many months passed without Soren finding Ike's tent illuminated in the dead of night again. He had completed his duties as tactician early in the evening, and had already reported them to Ike; however, the general's tent across the camp stood out more to Soren than anything else that he could possibly do. Sleep was an option, but with the first battle in Daien approaching, he knew that he would not be able to enjoy a good night's rest. There was the second option of joining some of the other members of the army in their own soothing, before-the-battle activities, although none of them would really be able to relax Soren's nerves. The only person that had that power was Ike; that was something that he could not deny. And perhaps, Soren considered with hesitation, Ike's concerns could benefit from a distracting visit from an old friend.

With that daringly hopeful thought, Soren set aside the battle formations that he had been drawing up and stepped out onto the campground. Things had significantly changed since the last time that Soren had wandered through the camp at night: the number of tents had at least quadrupled, there were two campfires where a total of four fighters kept watch through the night, and the soil beneath them was not that of a friendly nation. There were many people still awake and exploring the area, chatting with each other, diverting attention from the war at hand. Soren was envious that so many of his fellow soldiers could find solace in conversation with anyone, acquaintance or close friend, stranger or brother, it did not matter. Perhaps he was odd to have such dependence on one person alone. _"Of course I'm odd."_

Soren crossed through the camp, following the paths that ran between tents. He would turn a corner at the sight of another person, not wanting to deal with idle small talk that would fail to calm him at all. His wariness of others had certainly not improved since he confronted Ike about his genealogy and the fact that he was a Branded. It was not that he suspected Ike of sharing his secret with others, but by even uttering it aloud Soren felt that he had admitted it to the world. Every look directed toward him felt accusing, no matter what its true intent was.

After dodging any interaction, Soren finally reached Ike's tent; it was simple to identify as it was notably larger than any of the others. He pulled the door aside and stood in the entrance to observe Ike. The general was standing over a table that had been set up such that he could work out his own plans for the army, and it appeared to Soren that he was actually using it for its intended purpose. It was impressive: during his last dire time of uncertainty, Ike had merely sat vacantly as opposed to progressing. He had matured so much since then, instead working despite his fears in order to get past them. Soren suppressed a smile as he took one more step into the tent and let the door fall back into its place behind him. Ike glanced up at the sound, "Soren. What brings you here? You've already given me the latest report."

Before answering, Soren stepped further inside until he stood next to Ike, and then scanned over the papers that had been strewn across the table. "And it seems that you've put it to good use," he said, noting the open folder and various new papers that Ike himself had added to it, "I'm impressed. You have truly been working ardently."

"You didn't answer my question," Ike made certain to remind Soren before he strayed further away from it.

Soren continued to keep his stare locked on the table. He closed his eyes as he tranquilly closed the folder and shifted it aside. "You've done more than enough for tonight," he said as he opened his eyes once more to see Ike, "It is important that you get a decent amount of rest before tomorrow's battle." He was not there to relay this reminder, and yet somehow it was all that he could bring himself to say.

Ike heaved a sigh as he pushed more of the papers in the direction that Soren had moved the folder. "You're right... of course," he spoke in defeat, yet a sly grin was present on his lips as he leaned against the table, "So what makes you exempt to this advice?"

"I am not exempt," Soren retorted, "I simply had to share it with you before I took it myself." Ike lightly shook his head to himself with a smile, lifting himself up onto the table to sit down. "That's going to fall over," Soren warned while watching Ike attempting to balance his weight.

Maintaining his smile, and for the moment his balance, Ike patted the empty area next to him, "I'm not planning on moving, so it would be helpful if you contributed to evening the weight out." As much as he had matured in terms of taking responsibility for lives, Ike still managed to come off as a child at times. It was an appealing trait to anyone, Soren certainly not excluded. The mage breathed out loudly as he hopped up onto the table next to Ike. Neither spoke any words for quite some time. Soren had involuntarily begun to swing his legs forwards and backwards to create some sort of activity in the tent. "So really, why are you here?" Ike spontaneously questioned.

Soren frowned slightly more than the standard scowl present on his face; so Ike had not given that inquiry up, and Soren was well aware that Ike could read him just as well as a spellcaster could read incantations. "I simply wanted to make sure that you were alright. The last time that I saw that you were awake so late, well... you were far from being fine."

The foolish grin that had been frozen on Ike's lips melted into a serene smile. "I'm okay now, Soren," he said in an assuring tone, knowing exactly when 'the last time' Soren spoke of had been, "This is a different situation. Back then, I was overwhelmed with my loss and, really, self-pity; now I only have resolve. There are no alternative paths. Whether we win or lose, this is the direction that we're going in."

"_So __blunt, so confident... so very much like Ike_,_"_ Soren thought.

"What about you, Soren?" The question caught the tactician off guard, so he could only bring himself to look at Ike with perplexity until he elaborated, "Is it possible that maybe it's you who isn't feeling so confident?" It was just as Soren had considered before: Ike could read him like none other. Still, he resisted in admitting that that was the truth, piercing the bull's-eye of the target. Ike let out a sharp laugh, and in somewhat of a self-mocking tone asked, "Do you need a hug?"

Soren lifted his gaze to him with reservation. His mind immediately returned to the last time that he had visited Ike in the middle of the night and to the inner peace that he had felt afterwards. It was the thought of such serenity that prevented him from saying 'no' followed by a snide remark. As the silence persisted, Ike dropped the joking intent of his comment and let his arms encircle Soren. The frail mage's eyes were met with Ike's chest as the general kept a tight, yet not constricting hold on him. Even his hug felt stronger than it had once been; Soren realized that his arms around Ike were so much more limp and reluctant. "You may have grown more decisive," Soren finally spoke, his voice slightly muffled against the fabric of Ike's shirt, "but I haven't. My heart is just as weak as it has always been."

He felt Ike squeeze him slightly tighter, almost as though he was adding to the comfort that he was offering. "After the horrible things that you've endured, I would never expect your heart to heal so quickly," Ike said softly as he pulled away from Soren, moving his hand onto his friend's shoulder, "Just know that I'm here, the family that you never had, and always will be."

Soren delicately curved his mouth upward into a smile, hardly noticeable. "That may very well be the kindest thing that anyone has said to me. Thank you."

"I'm glad to hear that could serve as a kind of reassurance. Even with Mist, I can never be sure that I'm actually making her feel better." To be compared with Mist made Soren's smile remain where it was even longer, as it tightened he and Ike's bond as family. "I really enjoy getting to talk with you like this, Soren," Ike admitted, "It's really ideal to have some interaction unrelated to the army once in a while; so please, whether I am confident or not, visit me more often."

"I promise, Ike: I will drop by your quarters far more than I have, and these visits will not solely be to give reports," Soren said, and as an afterthought he wrinkled his nose, "Of course, this is for you. I could get by perfectly fine on my own."

Not at all offended by Soren's sudden harshness, Ike leaned forward and softly pecked the marking on the tactician's forehead. "A kiss goodnight," he explained after pulling away to find a bemused expression on Soren's face, "a concept that I'm sure you're about as familiar with as you are with hugs."

Soren jumped off of the table and took several steps toward the door before turning back around and folding his arms across his chest, "Hmph, are you insulting my hug technique?"

The tender smile that Ike had been wearing through their conversation broke once more into an eccentric grin, "It could use some work." Soren merely shook his head in objection before turning around again and marching out of the tent. "Goodnight," he faintly heard from behind as he continued into the campground without stopping.

Ike's nature was far too kind; no one could possibly feel offended by him for too long... or ever, in Soren's case.

As promised, Soren made a point of paying visits to Ike regularly for the sole purpose of conversation. He tried to see him for such interactions at least twice a week; before battles, after battles, in the eye of the storm. It made no difference: they did not speak of war, anyway.

On one of these regular nights, Soren stepped out of his tent, which he had managed to remain the sole resident of in spite of the growing population of the army. He had never seen the camp quite as vast as it was that night, the night before the final confrontation. He had always been able to identify Ike's tent in an instant by its size, but at that time there were several tents sizeable enough to draw out plans and house temporary visitors for the leaders of various divisions. As he strolled through the grounds, Soren found many faces that he could not place names to, which was a complete revelation to him. He had always been aware of every member of the army through his reports and role as tactician; however, after so many forces had joined together, he could not keep track of groups that were not directly controlled by Ike. He could not even find those that were keeping watch anymore; surely there were many of them with a camp so great, and yet the light of their fires failed to meet Soren's eyes. More people were united than ever before, although many of them were still so detached from each other.

Soren hopelessly glanced from tent to tent in hope of finding some difference between them that could perhaps lead him to identify which one belonged to Ike. There would be no bodyguards—Ike had refused them—and none of the larger tents looked identical to the one that Soren had grown so used to entering. He let out an agitated sigh as he began to walk through the paths again.

"Soren," a voice grabbed his attention from behind. He spun around to find Mist giving him a lost look that must have rivalled his own. "Have you seen my brother anywhere? Or can you at least show me which tent is his?"

The mage glimpsed towards the surrounding tents yet again in some vain hope that Ike's may leap out at him. No such luck. "No I haven't, and no I can't," he answered straightforwardly, "I was actually looking for him myself."

Mist clicked her tongue and placed one hand on her hip, the other pointed a finger on her chin thoughtfully, "Last I saw him, he and the princess were heading to his tent together. Of course, they were nowhere near his tent at the time, so I didn't actually get to see where it was..."

"O—Oh," Soren could hardly conceal the disappointment in his tone, "In that case, he'd probably rather be left with her anyway." Mist opened her mouth to respond to his comment, but Soren did not give her the time to do so, "Thank you for the lead, Mist. I will return to my tent, then. Rest well."

The young healer stared hopelessly at the mage as he walked away without a second thought. She groaned to herself, storming off in the direction opposite of Soren, "He'd probably rather talk to you anyway, dummy."

Soren did exactly as he had told Mist he would do by retreating into his tent. Among all of the books, papers, and equipment scattered around the quarters, the only thing that drew Soren's attention in the slightest was the long, thin cushion that served as a bed, pressed up against the side of the tent. Sleep dissolved all thoughts and concerns, provided that a person could actually fall into it. It was worth an attempt, Soren concluded; not only did he want to eliminate his thoughts, but he needed sleep before the skirmish the following day just like everyone else. He hastily unbuckled his sandals and kicked them aside, unfastened his cloak and let it fall to the floor, removed his belt and sash, and slipped out of the outer layers of his robes. With so much physical weight lifted, he could now work towards eliminating his emotional burden. He dropped down onto the cushion and swiftly pulled his blanket over him as he lay down, covering his body and the lower half of his face as his exposed eyes locked onto the tan material of the tent.

Escape would have been so much simpler if Soren could have brought himself to close his eyes. He longed for empty black; however, all that he saw was the tan tent of war, of camps, of a nomadic life, of conversation and wounds and healing. So many people had entered the lives and hearts of others since he had first set out with the Greil Mercenaries, and as many of those people that Soren had been able to recognize by name and face and call his companions, he could still only call one his friend. This thought should have been enough to provoke Soren to set out in search of more friends, but in all the times that he had called Ike his 'only friend', he had never felt the need for any more. It was another, new thought that caused doubt to stab at Soren's chest: Ike had opened himself to so many others that... maybe he had allowed those others to hold priority over Soren, oldest friend or not.

Finally, Soren turned away from the drapery, instead burying his face into the change of clothes that served him as a pillow. He had worn the robes during the last battle, washed them afterwards, and yet they still held the lingering scent of blood; or it could have been the laguz side of him picking up on details that no one else would perceive. As foreign a notion it was, Soren had suddenly begun to feel homesick. Delving further into that thought, he also realized that he did not have the slightest idea what his home was. Wasn't it the battlefield? But that tent and the stench were so repulsive.

When the door of Soren's tent swished open, he was still so wide awake that he noticed it instantly. He did not take the advice that he had given Ike about being leery and prepared to defend; he did not move from his position, his back to the entrance, face buried. He listened as boots crunched against the floor, pausing every couple of steps to be followed by a rustling—picking up the clothes that he had carelessly tossed aside, Soren concluded. After some time of uncomfortable pacing about on the part of Soren's visitor, a voice finally whispered, "Soren? ...Are you awake?"

Soren had evidently known who it was all along, even though he had ignored him for as long as he did not say a word. If he had just left the tent as mute as he had entered, then Soren could have remained ignorant... With a barely audible groan, Soren pushed his palms against the ground to lift himself to his knees, continuing to face away from his guest. The movement was more than enough of a response, saving Soren the breath of answering 'yes'.

"I had expected to see you tonight. I was sort of looking forward to it."

The mage had to bite back his urge to speak bitterly. "Why?" he voice instead came out in an eerie calm, "You already had a distraction, did you not?"

His question was met with quiet, which forced Soren to acknowledge that avoiding eye contact had its negatives: reading expressions was impossible when they could not be seen. Soren rotated his body to the front of the tent. Before anything else, his eyes settled on the table that all of his clothes from that day had been folded and piled neatly on top of; what a reversal of roles. Soren had always been the one meticulous with organization back at...home. Once he had processed that image, he let his stare travel to his general standing next to the table. For a man leading an army to war, he somehow suited the innocent, puzzled face that he wore at that moment.

Soren pulled his knees to his chin and wrapped all but his face in his blanket, "You were with Elincia."

"Yes," Ike said slowly while nodding at an equal pace, the tone of his voice reflecting the confusion upon his face, "Why didn't come in and join us, then?" Soren's eyes narrowed slightly. The answer was obvious: Soren was not a sociable person, and Ike knew that just as well as anyone else. The lord sighed, "I want you to feel free to join in when I'm conversing with others. Maybe then you will be able to open yourself to someone else, even just a little," he walked closer to Soren and crouched down in front of him, "I mean, when we win tomorrow"—the confidence in those words made it a challenge for Soren to keep a stern face—"there is going to be a lot of celebrating afterward, and I don't want to see you hiding in the shadows while I socialize with all of the people that reached victory alongside us. That would just ruin my night." He spoke of celebration as though it were the most serious matter in the world, yet his unwavering beam said otherwise.

"You'll have to deal with the guilt of any hurt feelings that result from my presence in conversations," Soren's reply came cynically, but Ike knew that that was the way of his dark sense of humour.

The general let out a light snicker, "I think that I can handle it. I already have for years." Soren huffed in his own form of laughter. "Are we alright now? Can I go to sleep knowing that you won't send a tornado after me in tomorrow's clash?"

Again, Soren breathed out with a smile instead of laughing, "That will depend on your ability to either stay out of my way or to stay by my side."

Ike's teeth flashed brighter than anything else in the dreary tent as he caught onto the 'stay by my side' that Soren had not even seemed to notice himself. It amused him mostly because Soren was generally the one to do the following on the battlefield, not that it ever bothered Ike in the least. "Well then," Ike slowly began to rise to his feet, "Goodnight."

As though on reflex to that word, Soren reached forward and grasped onto Ike's forearm to stop him from turning to the tent's exit. The word 'goodnight' escaping Ike's mouth had been provoking an urge within Soren for some time. The general did not speak a word as Soren brought himself to as close to Ike's height as he could manage. He briefly flicked his eyes away from Ike's and then brought his gaze back before shutting his eyes and pressing his lips against those of his leader. He stayed there only an instant as Ike remained completely motionless, even as Soren pulled away. The mage did not turn away from Ike even though he felt completely sheepish, suddenly having the urge to say, 'sorry'; however, if he said that, it would be a lie. As an alternative, he tentatively murmured, "Goodnight."

Ike barely dithered a second for fear that Soren would end the interaction if silence persisted for too long. "Goodnight," he quickly said again, and then repeated Soren's action of a kiss goodnight. Unlike the last, the kiss was mutual, longer, and deeper. Reluctance nearly succeeded in keeping Ike from loosening the hold that his arms had taken around Soren, but he gradually let go of his unwillingness by separating little by little with kisses that grew shorter and shorter until they stopped altogether, leaving two bewildered companions staring at one another.

It would have been an appropriate time to pose some questions: _Why did that just happen? What did it mean? Nothing, something, anything?_ Soren was never one to step into the expectations of standards, though. "You said goodnight," he stated matter-of-factly, as though he had returned to the moment in time immediately after Ike's initial 'goodnight', "so shouldn't you be returning to your tent for rest?"

Had anyone else reacted in such a manner, Ike would have thought them to be either extremely ignorant or extremely dense. Since it was Soren, however, Ike merely scratched the back of his head and sighed, "Alright, if you're going to be like that." He let his stare linger on Soren for a few seconds longer before breaking it away. "I'll see you tomorrow then. Sleep well."

Soren watched as his friend pulled the tent door aside and slipped outside without glancing back. As the door fell back into its place, the mage languidly lowered himself onto his makeshift mattress. While his thoughts could have gone in many directions, they managed to focus on a single idea: the final battle was tomorrow, and although he was still as sceptical as ever about the pending consequences, it no longer perturbed him. He could only hope that Ike's confidence was indeed reasonable so that he could address all of the things that he did not that night. And if something went wrong... if he or Ike did not survive... At that moment, he could hardly care less. He was too occupied with basking in the irrational bliss that always came after he, and only he, interacted with Ike. How he managed to provide such comfort, Soren would never understand.

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I may change the ending at some point because I am extremely unsatisfied with it. As a whole, though, I'm happy with how this turned out, an above all I am happy that I was inspired to write again! I may play around in the Fire Emblem section a little more, but I do have hopes of getting back to my Tales Of writing soon enough, too.

Thank you for reading!


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